


Heat of the Summer

by Nodusormu



Series: Snowbaz Playlist [1]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, POV Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Recreational Drug Use, college party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-29 04:41:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19822753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nodusormu/pseuds/Nodusormu
Summary: For a moment I think he’s about to disappear into the mass of party goers, but he grabs my hand and walks us back into the kitchen for refills. He asks what I want, and I tell him, and he fills my cup. I slam the whole thing down the second he hands it back to me.I need the liquid courage if I want to kiss him. And I do. I really do.





	Heat of the Summer

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely based off Heat of the Summer by Young the Giant
> 
> Also, I just wanted to make sure everyone saw the warning for alcohol and drug use (pot) in the tags! 
> 
> Enjoy 💛💙

I’ve never really been invited to parties like this before, and I’ve also never been to Niall’s parents' house before. Niall himself lives in the dorms, but he’s back at his parents for the summer and they’re a ways into the country. The place wasn't hard to find. His directions were clear and there’s cars up and down the road, all of them funneling towards the only house around save for some fields and trees. I had to park down a dirt section of road since everyone's already taken up the pavement, though.  
  
I thought maybe it would be cooler outside the city limits, but it’s still so bloody hot outside that I'm starting to regret venturing out of my flat. (Actually, that’s a lie. I’m glad I left my flat.) (My roommate brought his girlfriend over for the weekend and I’d rather not hear her scream like a pterodactyl through the walls.)  
  
I glance up at the multi story house, curious if it’s packed brim, because it sounds like it. From out on the lawn you can hear the music and bass, and mixed conversations happening just inside. A blonde girl standing on the large front step nods to me in greeting, red plastic cup in hand, and I vaguely recognize her from one of my classes. I think her name starts with an A, but since I don’t remember it, I simply flash her a smile at the same time I flip the hair from my eyes. She smiles brightly behind her cup while I slip past her and into the throng of people.  
  
Niall finds me rather quickly when I’m not ten steps through the door and shakes my hand, which turns into a half hug and we slap each other on the back. He leans into my ear and practically has to shout over the music.  
  
“Glad you made it, Baz! Drinks are in the kitchen, and there’s some extra happenings in the den on the second floor.” He flashes me a wicked grin that can only mean pot. He did mention that in the text he sent.  
  
“Aye,” I shout back to him and grin. I slap his back again and break away to make myself something to drink.  
  
In the kitchen people are standing around, talking loudly, some laughing and others half dancing to the music coming from the living room. Thankfully there’s more than just beer here. The counters are covered in cups of ice, bottles of soda and different types of alcohol.   
  
It’s a bit over crowded, but at least someone’s bartending. A girl with bright purple curly hair and matching cat eye glasses is pouring shots of something-or-other into tiny plastic shot glasses.  
  
“Oi,” she calls up at me when I slide up to a free standing space. She snaps her fingers, pointing to the bottle of whiskey I can now see in her hand.  
  
I nod with a half smile and throw up two fingers.  
  
She grins, laughing as she pours me two then moves to get out more small cups as I grab my shots.  
  
“Hey, Penny,” a voice calls over my right shoulder just as I feel someone touch me. “Can I get a couple?”  
  
I turn to look at the person who damn near shouted in my ear, who can only be the one touching my lower back. I end up accidentally bumping them a little and my nose nearly collides with a head of bronze curls. The shots in my hands spill a bit but the stranger steadies me with that warm hand on my back.  
  
“Sorry, mate!”  
  
“No worries,” I mumble, looking down into the brightest pair of blue eyes I’ve ever seen.  
  
This boy I've never seen before grins up at me, and it feels like time stands still as I take in the white of his crooked teeth, the pink of his chapped lips and flushed cheeks. His face is covered in freckles and a few beauty marks that I would give anything to lick. I blink a few times when I feel the hand on my back slowly slide away so he can reach for the shots the girl named Penny poured for him.   
  
He slams them both back, one after another, and growls, which then turns into a loud laugh. He shouts a thanks to her and turns to throw out the tiny cups in favor of a larger one, mixing soda and vodka with his back turned to me.  
  
I slam back one my shots and toss the cup, moving over next to him. I know I’m staring at him, but I really don’t care. He’s so fucking _beautiful_ , and his jeans are hugging him in all the right places. And there’s more freckles and moles covering his arms that strain to stay inside his shirt. All of which is really doing it for me.  
  
I down the other shot with a hiss, abandon the empty tiny cup on the counter, and purposefully reach in his line of sight for a cup of ice. (It’s a lame move, but I don’t care.)  
  
“Excuse me,” I say near his ear, grabbing for the bottle of vodka he just set down on his other side.  
  
He turns to look up at me, and gives me another award winning grin.   
  
_Fuck_. His smile ruins me.  
  
“No worries,” he repeats the same words I used just before back at me.   
  
That causes me to laugh for some reason. Probably because I’m nervous.  
  
He pushes the vodka to me and stands there while I pour a hefty amount before reaching for soda to mix it with.  
  
“Name’s Simon,” he says, leaning into me with his cup curled to his chest so he doesn’t spill it.  
  
“I’m Basil,” I reply without thinking, my face instantly hot. Fuck, I hate how I introduce myself as Basil to fit blokes. They just make me nervous.  
  
“ _Basil_ , _Basil_ ,” he tries my name on for size, and bloody hell it sound like music. He does not stop grinning, either. “Nice to meet ya, Basil.”  
  
Simon lifts his cup to take a deep drink, and it’s the first time I get a look at the showiest Adam’s apple I’ve ever seen. I stair while it bobs in his throat with each gulp he takes. It’s hard to draw my eyes back up to his face when he shifts to hold the cup casually in one hand, the other leaning on the counter as he looks up at me.  
  
I watch his eyes flick down and then run right back up me. My whole body heats up and suddenly I wish it weren’t the middle of summer because Simon’s gaze alone is like having the sun pointed directly at you.  
  
He leans into me and asks loudly, “Wanna dance?”   
  
All I can do is nod in response. He grabs my hand and starts pulling me through the crowded kitchen, out into the large living room turned dance floor. We keep our hands clasped, drinks still held in our other hands as we bounce and sway with the music. I know the song, but the words are lost to me since all I can focus on is 1) not spilling my drink on his greek god of a boy, and 2) making sure he keeps dancing with me.  
  
The first song slides into another, and our bodies move closer until I can feel his hips slot against mine. The arm with his drink goes over my shoulder, and soon we’re chest to chest. I can see his mouth moving, wet lips mouthing the words with his eyes shut.  
  
Fuck, he’s so gorgeous.  
  
When the song changes again, I let our clasped hands go so I can spin him. He hugs what’s left of his drink to his chest as I move right up behind him. In time with the beat, he backs up into me and we grind unashamedly. I quickly down the rest of my drink so my arm can hang loose at my side while the other snakes around his waist to hold him against me. I can feel every muscle in his torso from where I hold him, and my fingers flirt with the hem of his shirt and brush the skin of his stomach.   
  
From behind I can see a mole on the back of his neck peeking out from under his collar. It takes me summoning the rest of my sobriety to not kiss it. I swallow thickly and try to focus on dancing, spinning him back around to feel his chest against mine.   
  
It isn’t until both our cups are empty and after maybe four or five songs go by that he pulls away from me.  
  
For a moment I think he’s about to disappear into the mass of party goers, but he grabs my hand and walks us back into the kitchen for refills. He asks what I want, and I tell him, and he fills my cup. I slam the whole thing down the second he hands it back to me.   
  
I need the liquid courage if I want to kiss him. And I do. I really do.  
  
He laughs loudly at my eagerness for a drink and fills my cup again, then does his and grabs my hand again. We cut a path through the party, skipping the living room and heading down a hallway then up a set of stairs. We pass a bathroom that has a long line and a couple other people I know from class who say hi, but I don’t linger to talk with them. I just nod and grin, my body on fire from the alcohol and because I’m letting this beautiful boy lead me around.  
  
We end up in the den, which has a thick layer of smoke hovering around the chairs and bookshelves. Yeah, Niall didn’t disappoint with the promise of pot being here. There’s a couple of pipes being passed around, but I’m just good standing there inhaling all the smoke for the time being.  
  
Simon has other plans it seems, though. He lets me go and moves off across to room to grab a couple things from a girl sitting on the armrest of a chair. She starts to chat him up for a few minutes.  
  
I stand there, breathing deeply, and taking sips from my cup as I watch with mild impatience and slight jealousy at the way this girl takes and holds Simon’s wrist. Her fingers rub little circles into the prominent bone there, and she touches his chest when she laughs at something he’s said. I can’t hear them over the music but I’m pretty sure she’s exaggerating her reaction just to touch him, which I can’t blame her for. (I’d probably do the same thing.)  
  
He keeps lingering with her, though, and I start to get discouraged. There’s a few times he catches my eye and grins, half rolling his eyes then looking back at the girl. But they just keep talking, and soon enough there’s a bloke joining their conversation and offering Simon a hit from his pipe.   
  
I shuffle backwards to let some other people in the door then stick my back in so I can catch Simon’s eye. When I do, I lift my glass to him as a cheers, and slowly back my way out of the room of smoke.  
  
_The night’s young_ , I try to reassure myself. But he’s so fit and that smile is burned into my brain.   
  
I sigh and head back down towards the living room to dance among the mass of bodies and with a couple other blokes who approach me. A few pull me flush against them and I let them, feeling the music and the sway of their bodies. When I dance, I keep my hands to myself, though, and because of that I nearly punch a guy who thought he could grab my ass out of nowhere. After that, I move to the edge of the room to blend in with the wall for a while and sip at another drink I’ve made myself. I haven’t had enough to get completely pissed, but I’m on my way.  
  
I don’t know how long I’ve been at this party. It’s been a while since I danced with Simon and then all the songs flow into one another, plus I haven’t seen a clock. I pat my pocket for my phone, which I’ve seemed to have lost, and I have no idea where my keys are, either. Normally I’d be panicking about now, but the alcohol and steady jumping mass of bodies are keeping me enthralled.  
  
Well, one body in particular has my attention.   
  
I’ve spotted Simon again.  
  
His head of curls is bouncing in time with the music and a bit damp with sweat. He’s dancing with that girl with the purple hair. She doesn’t seem to be very good, but he’s humoring her and they’re laughing. Another a spike of jealousy shoots through me. Jealousy I know I shouldn’t have, but still do. It tastes bad in my mouth.  
  
I need another drink to wash it away with, so I end up back in the kitchen.  
  
As I pour myself what could possibly be my fifth or sixth drink of the night, I think about maybe asking Niall if he could let me crash here tonight, or I can go curl up in my car. (Once I find my keys.) Either would work for me. In the meantime I lean on the counter, watching the party in the reflection of the kitchen window.  
  
“Basil!” I hear from somewhere behind me.  
  
In the glass I can see Simon and the purple haired girl, Penny if I remember right. He’s dragging her by the hand over to me, so I turn to smile down at them.  
  
“Penny, this is Basil,” he shouts with a wide grin.  
  
She nods and smiles with her glasses a bit lopsided, and shouts up at me, “Alright, Basil?”  
  
“Yeah.” I lift my chin at them both and move out of the way as an offer for them to get new drinks. Simon shakes his head but Penny moves to do just that.  
  
Simon instead moves closer to me, never breaking my gaze once he catches it. He leans into me, damn near chest to chest and I can feel myself blushing in the dim light of the kitchen. We’re centimeters apart and I’m sure my breath smells of alcohol, just like his.  
  
“Where’d you go before?” he asks, eyes dropping to my mouth a moment before fixing back on my eyes. “I was just grabbing a couple joints.”  
  
I swallow as my eyes do their own flick to his lips then back up. My throat is suddenly too dry to answer him.  
  
“Thought we could go out back and have a smoke.” He leans closer and I can feel the heat of his breath on my chin and neck. “Just the two of us, yeah?”  
  
I nod as what could only be describe as much too eagerly and grin stupidly down at him. A wave of heat rolls through me and I just know that I’m full on blushing now.   
  
He shouts something at Penny, who’s already chatting with a bloke who’s teeth are absolutely way too straight when he grins. (Five quid says he’s American.) Simon rolls his eyes when he has to repeat himself, but sighs loudly when Penny leans in to kiss said bloke. After that he just gives up and takes my hand.  
  
Once again I’m being lead through the crowded party, but this time Simon heads for a set of french doors that open up into a large garden. There’s already people out here, all of them either broken off in couples or small groups that are talking and laughing. Simon pulls me over to an empty space of grass near some bushes, where he plops down and then tugs me down with him. A bit of the drink I brought with me sloshes onto his pant leg and my knee.  
  
“Sorry,” I mutter, still smiling like a numpty.  
  
“Nah, don’t worry.” He brushes at his pant leg for a second before crossing his legs, then reaches into his back pocket, producing the joints he mentioned and a lighter.   
  
He offers me one of the rolled up papers, which I take and hold patiently. He slots his own between his lips before taking the lighter up to it. It takes him no time to have it lit properly so he can take a long, slow drag. He hands me the lighter and I follow in suit.   
  
I end up coughing before he can even let his lung full of smoke out.   
  
“F-fuck!” I hack up the word, and half my lung. My eyes water and my throat stings. (It’s been a while.)  
  
Simon slaps my back and chuckles. “Alright, Basil?”  
  
I nod and take another drag, not nearly as deep or long, but enough to feel it hum in my chest. I blow the smoke out slowly through pursed lips, politely letting the billows curl away from Simon’s face.  
  
We sit in silence for a bit until Simon turns to me and starts up a game of twenty questions. I play along, my answers coming slow and my questions even slower as I think. He's patient, though, and so am I. I learn Simon's training to be a cook. He starts breaking down the roles in kitchen and different knives, but honestly it's just good fun to watch him talk so animatedly that I don't quite catch it all. I think I've zoned out thanks to the pot when Simon lightly taps my arm and points out a couple hardcore snogging on a garden bench, to which we both snicker like two full grown adults. But then we stop giggling when the guy pulls away from the girl in his lap to kiss a new guy who’s saddled onto the bench with them.  
  
“Fuckin’ hell,” Simon laughs behind his hand, leaning into my shoulder. I can feel his body shake, the laugh genuine and rolling through him in waves. “They’ll all have their hands full tonight, it seems.”  
  
“Yeah.” I glance away from the party of three to look down at Simon. “Lucky buggers, yea?”  
  
I don’t know why I say that, but embarrassment and regret immediately send a flush running up the back of my neck and over my cheeks. It’s so hot out here, and the way Simon stopped laughing and is looking at me now is just making it worse.  
  
His eyes do that thing where they wander round my face, stopping for a long few seconds at my lips, then lock onto my gaze again. He bites his lip a moment before taking another draw off the joint between his fingers.   
  
“Yeah, lucky buggers,” he repeats back at me, breathing out the smoke between us.  
  
Christ, should it be so attractive to watch someone smoke?   
  
Nervously I take a drag from my joint and let the smoke curl out from my nose. We sit like that, staring at one another and smoking in silence.   
  
His eyes flick away from mine ever so often, clearly checking me out. I know I keep doing the same exact same thing to him, and he’s aware of it. At some point he stretches, on purpose, and lets his shirt ride up a bit. I look, of course. And he knows it.  
  
“So, Basil,” he draws out my name with a hard zed before taking another long drag.  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
He lets a lung full of smoke out in slow, thick clouds off to the side. Everything feels a bit slow going, like my brain is a few seconds behind. I blink slowly down at him and lean on my free hand, cup forgotten on the grass and my joint burning out slowly between my fingers. Simon mimics my stance, resting his hand so close to mine that our fingers touch just a little. His eyes drop to my lips and stay there, all the while he draws in his bottom lip to chew on.   
  
I thought he was going to ask me another question, but I don’t really remember or care. All I care about is closing the distance between us, and I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one because Simon most definitely meets me in the middle. Our noses touch and I watch his eyes go half lidded, that brilliant blue growing dark as he rubs his nose against mine and then drags it over on my cheek.  
  
He teases me, barely brushing his lips against mine, ghosting them over my cheek and then back over my lips again. We both smell of sweat, weed, and alcohol, but there’s something underneath all that, and it must belong to Simon. Something spicy and sweet. Cinnamon and maple, I think. Honestly, he smells like something I would eat. The thought makes my mouth water and lips part, which he takes as an invitation to fully close the distance between us.  
  
My eyes fall shut and I lean down into his kiss, allowing him to lead with the warmth of his tongue sliding against mine. His stubble tickles my chin and nose when I tilt my head to kiss him deeper, but I like it. Especially when he does this thing with chin that just beckons my hand to cup the back of his neck so I can hold him there, and thankfully he does that chin thing again. And again, and again. I sigh into the kiss, and all but moan down his throat when he slides a hand through my hair. He scratches at my scalp, gently tugging and earning himself another moan from me.  
  
We stay like that until neither of us are getting enough hair through our noses and pull back, both panting and grinning with wet mouths.  
  
“Alright, Simon?” I ask, braver now that I have some adrenaline running through me.   
  
He nods quickly and I watch as he pulls away to toss the last of his joint into my forgotten drink, and then I do the same.  
  
The moment there’s nothing hindering both our hands, mine end up in his bronze curls so I can pull him back into another kiss. One of his goes back into my hair and the other flirts with the hem of my shirt. After what feels like hours of snogging, I end on my back in the grass with Simon above me, and with my bottom lip between his teeth. He bites and sucks on it, and I can’t help but rut up against him or the noises that escapes my throat.  
  
It starts to get a little fuzzy from there on out. The only solid things I remember are Simon’s lips on mine and his hands crawling up shirt at some point. I’m pretty sure I only imagined him whispering into my ear and calling me darling some time after midnight.  
  
When I wake in the morning my head is killing me and there's a bright light coming from a window close by. Blinking awake, I notice I’m on the sofa in the living room, and something is tickling my nose. Before my vision comes into focus, I realize the thing bothering my nose is hair and that my arm is draped around someone. I’m pretty sure it’s Simon. I try to work backwards through the hangover to remember how we got here, but the last thing I remember is Simon and I in the garden snogging each other senseless.  
  
I cautiously attempt to sit up, but that turns out to be a mistake because I disturb Simon. He groans and moves to roll over. Which is a mistake for him because that just makes him roll right off the couch before I can even react. He lands with a soft thud and groans again.  
  
“You alright?” I ask, my voice thick with sleep and my vision still a bit fuzzy due to my dried out contacts.  
  
Simon nods and rubs his forehead a moment.  
  
I watch him yawn and stretch like a lazy cat and rub the sleep out of his eyes. Seeing him yawn makes me yawn as I take a look around us. Turns out we’re not the only ones who crashed at Niall’s. There’s a few other people, and some couples, curled up together on the floor with the couch throw pillows under their heads. But it does seem we’re the firsts to wake.  
  
I bring a finger up to my lips, and thankfully Simon mimics me to show he understands. He crawls back onto the couch with me, this time sitting beside me instead of being my little spoon. Which is fine. Because as bits and pieces of last night come back to me, I can feel a blush crawling up my neck as I pointedly try not to look directly at Simon. (No, we didn’t have sex, but I do remember that we did, in fact, rut against each other quite a lot in the garden.)  
  
But I immediately fail because I look him right in the eye when he turns to me and whispers, “Wanna go get a coffee and some breakfast?”  
  
The blush becomes more than evident with the heat of my face and the stupid smile I know I’m wearing.  
  
“Uh, yeah,” I whisper back. “I just, uh… need to find my phone and keys. Lost ‘em last night, I think.”  
  
His eyes get wide a moment as I watch him pad down his own pockets. The only thing he finds is the lighter we used last night.  
  
“Fuck me. I’ve lost mine, too.” Simon blinks rapidly then starts to quietly move around the living room, probably retracing his steps last night.  
  
I get up to do the same, tip toeing to the kitchen where I thankfully find my phone on the counter near a bottle of vodka that I’m pretty sure I helped empty. There’s a voice mail I ignore and some texts from my roommate saying it’s safe to come back over. Now I just need my keys. I remember dancing a lot, so I check every surface in the living that doesn’t have a sleeping body on it. Eventually I end up on my hands and knees, reaching under the couch for my car keys.  
  
“Got ya, you filthy buggers.” I mutter to myself and do my best to not shake them so I don’t wake any of the other sleeping bodies.  
  
Simon wanders back into the living room then, looking a bit thrashed from the party but he’s still grinning. And it’s just as gorgeous as last night. He’s also brought some aspirin with him.  
  
“Found these in the medicine cabinet.” He hands me a couple pills when I get back up, and without hesitation we both dry swallow them.   
  
“And I found my phone. Penny said she made it home already with Micah," he pauses, squinting down at his phone while he types something. (I have no idea who Micah is, but I'm glad his friend made it out of here alright.) When he's done texting, he pockets his phone and smiles up at me again. "So I’m good to go for breakfast whenever you are, darling.”  
  
My chest does this weird little flip when he calls me darling. I can’t help but grin down at him, then slip my hand in his. I’d say it’s kind of weird how our hands fit nicely together, but I really like it so I won’t.  
  
When we get to my car, Simon buckles up and sinks into his seat, watching me as I start fishing around in my back for my glasses. I don’t even care about losing this set of contacts at this point, my eyes are probably bloodshot to hell and they burn.  
  
“I didn’t know you wore glasses,” he says, grinning stupidly.  
  
“Yeah, well,” I huff and fix the black frames on my face before starting up the car. “I wear glasses… do you?”  
  
He shakes his head, but that restarts our game of twenty questions from last night as a means to properly get to know each other while sober. This time around I pay attention and actually talk more. I tell him about the economics degree I'm pursuing and about my many siblings.   
  
After a little while we roll down the windows to enjoy the cool morning countryside before the heat of the summer sets in. For breakfast we get kippers and coffee and I afterward give Simon a ride home to the flat he shares with his friend Penny, and I give him my number. He gives me his, too.

And I kiss him, no liquid courage needed this time.

**Author's Note:**

> Curious about potential ficlits to come? Check the actual playlist [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3hkW57IlShxracUweuRDwv?si=_oO9zLfLSS2gz6GusxR5QA)


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